


Remember Me

by heiressofanor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men Evolution, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Boarding School, Crossover, Death Eaters, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Kids, Kurt and Rogue are Friends, Logan remembers, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Magic, Magic and Science, Magneto in Prison, Memories, Memory Loss, Mind Healer, Mutants, Pregnancy, Professors, Repressed Memories, Storytelling, Teenagers, Temporary Character Death, Visiting Magneto, Walk down memory lane, Werewolves, Witches and Wizards, Wizarding Healer, Wolverine's Healing Factor, X-Men Movies & Evolution Fusion, Xavier Institute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:53:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6309667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heiressofanor/pseuds/heiressofanor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus came to Prof. X to ask for help in finding his long-lost sister, but what he discovered at the school re-opened old hurts that he'd long thought dead and buried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on fanfiction.net under my same penname.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus arrives at the mansion and meets Professor X.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything X-Men or Harry Potter! Basically, if you recognize it, I don't own it.
> 
> Spoilers: X-Men after X-Men: The Movie, but before X2 (Logan doesn't leave though); HP takes place before series, but after the Potters' deaths.
> 
> AN: I tried my best to make the timelines mesh; my Remus is born in 1966, so I adjusted the X-Men timeline accordingly to make this work. Also, X-Men story line meshes together all the movies (including Origins & First Class, but not The Wolverine because I haven't gotten around to watching that one yet) with a little bit of the cartoon X-Men: Evolution. This is mostly just for Kitty and Kurt, because I don't like how the movies portrayed Kitty and I see Kurt as more of a mix between movie Kurt and teenage Evo Kurt. Other than those two, pretty much everything else is movie verse. And yes, I have made the trilogy, Origins, & FC work together...at least it makes sense in my head. My Victor Creed/Sabretooth is the Sabretooth from Origins played by Liev Schreiber.

** Chapter 1: First Meetings **

 

                **_November 21, 1994_ :**  “Mr. Lupin?  I’m terribly sorry to have kept you waiting.  I’m Professor Charles Xavier.  Please come in.”  A regal bald man in a wheelchair led his tall, thin guest into his office.  “Have a seat, please,” he offered as the tall man shut the door behind them.  “Now,” Xavier said as his guest sat, “what can I help you with, Mr. Lupin?”

                When the tall, sandy-haired man spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.  “Professor Dumbledore told me that you could help me, sir,” he said quietly.

                Professor Xavier raised his eyebrow.  “Oh? And what does Albus think that I can help you with?” he asked.

                “He said that you could help me find my sister.”

                “Ah,” said Charles, steepling his fingers in front of his face.  “And why does he think that?”

                Lupin shrugged.  “All he told me is that if anyone can help, it’s you; he said that you’re the best man for the job.”

                “Hm.  And when was the last time you saw your sister, Mr. Lupin?”

                “She was just a baby, so…about sixteen years ago.  And please call me Remus.  Mr. Lupin was my grandfather and he never really cared for me.”

                Xavier filed that odd bit of information away for later.  “Remus, if you haven’t seen her in sixteen years, it will be near impossible to find her.”

                “Believe me, I know,” said Remus with a sigh, running his long, elegant fingers through his shaggy blonde-brown hair.  “I’ve been searching for her nearly the entire time she’s been gone.”

                “Do you have anything that might help me find her?” asked Charles.

                Remus pulled a well-worn photograph out of his jeans’ pocket.  “This is a picture of baby Marie and our Aunt Joan—Mum said that Marie looked just like her sister did as a baby.  It’s better than nothing, right?”

                “Indeed,” said Charles, staring at the strikingly familiar young woman holding baby Marie.  “Would you mind if I held on to this for a while?”  Seeing Remus’ uncertainty, he added, “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.  I should have it back to you some time tomorrow.”

                “If it would help…” said Remus somewhat reluctantly.

                “It would.”

                “Alright...”

                “Thank you, Remus,” said Charles.  “I’ll have one of my colleagues show you to your room.”

                “That’s not necess—”

                “I insist,” said Charles, looking up as the door was pushed open quietly.  “Ah, Scott, would you please show my guest to one of the spare rooms in the teachers’ wing?”

 

                “Here you are,” said Scott, opening the door and gesturing Remus into the comfortable guest room.  “Make yourself at home.”

                “Thank you,” said Remus, setting his battered briefcase on the bed and glancing around the room.

                “You’re welcome,” said Scott.  “The bathroom is down the hall,” he added.  “Feel free to eat anything in the kitchen that’s not labeled with someone’s name and if you have any questions, just find me or one of the other teachers; we’re all roomed in this wing.”

                “Again, thank you,” said Remus.  “I’m actually feeling a bit knackered, so…”

                “Oh, of course.  Welcome to Xavier’s School for the Gifted; I hope you enjoy your stay.”  Scott left the room quietly, shutting the door behind him.

 

                Remus, despite his utter exhaustion, couldn’t sleep.  He had lain in bed for three hours with no relief and he was getting desperate.  Finally giving up, he decided to make himself some tea.  Tea always made him feel better; that and chocolate.  Chocolate cured _everything_ (except possibly a stomachache from eating too much chocolate and even _that_ was debatable).  Groaning, Remus sat up and bent over, groping for the boots he had shoved under his bed.  Uttering a soft cry of success, he shoved his socked feet into them carelessly, his old Gryffindor pajama pants bunching oddly as they were half shoved into said boots.  His feet properly shod (sort of), he stood up and cracked his neck, groaning as he felt his spine realign properly.  Godric, he felt so old sometimes.  He padded over to the door (he had charmed his boots to be silent years ago) and grabbed his faded and worn formerly navy blue robe (it had once belonged to his father and still held the faintest scent of him even after all these years).  He pulled it on over his tatty white sleep shirt, leaving it untied.  He then opened the door, peering around cautiously (old habits die hard—CONSTANT VIGILANCE! and all that rot) before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door behind him.

 

                Remus was lost; totally and completely lost.  The mansion was far larger than he had anticipated.   He felt like he had been wandering around for hours (it had actually been no more than forty-five minutes).  “Can I help you?” asked a decidedly feminine someone.  Remus was startled; he had been so absorbed in his own melancholy and frustration that he hadn’t noticed that he was no longer alone.

                “I uh—I’m looking for the kitchen, but I think I’m lost.”

                The mysterious woman laughed musically.  “I’ll say.  You’re about three floors above the kitchen and in the wrong wing.”

                “Oh bugger.”

                “You’re Charles’ guest, aren’t you?” she asked, her face still too shadowed for Remus to make out.

                “Yes.  Remus Lupin,” he said, holding out his hand.

                “Ororo Munroe,” she replied, stepping into the light and shaking his hand.

                Remus was smitten.  The woman standing in front of him was undoubtedly a goddess.  Flawless skin the color of hot cocoa, eyes the color of the midday sky, and hair as white as snow.  She was of average height, standing less than a foot shorter than him and she appeared to be around his own age, if not a bit older.  “A pleasure,” he finally said, forcing himself back to the present.

                “Likewise,” she replied.  “Would you like me to take you to the kitchen?”

                “If it’s not too much of a bother…”

                “Of course not; come with me.” 

                Ororo took Remus’ hand and his brain once again shut down.  _So this is what Prongs felt like when he first met Lily_ , he thought as this exotic beauty led him through the empty halls.

 

                Ororo started as Remus set a mug of some hot liquid in front of her before taking the seat beside her.  “I was planning on making tea,” admitted Remus at Ororo’s questioning glance, “but when I saw that you had hot cocoa, I changed my mind.”

                Ororo smiled brightly at the younger man.  “How did you know?” she asked, sipping her cocoa contentedly.

                Remus shrugged, sipping his own.  “Chocolate makes everything better,” he said.  “Besides, who _doesn’t_ like chocolate?”

                Ororo laughed.  “True,” she admitted.  “It’s very good.”

                “Well, I can’t take too much credit; it was a mix.”

                “You’re too modest,” teased Ororo.  “What’s your secret?”

                “Milk,” said Remus.  “It makes for much better cocoa than water does.”

                Ororo laughed.  “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

                The two sat in companionable silence while they finished their cocoa, almost as if they had known each other forever.  Then it all went to Hell.  “Whatcha doin’ up so late, Ro?”

                Remus’ head whipped around so fast that Ororo swore she heard something crack.  His amber eyes narrowed at Logan for a half a second before his face went completely blank.  Without speaking, Remus pushed his chair out from the table and walked calmly out of the room, not once looking back.  Ororo slapped Logan upside the head.  “What’s that for, Ro?” he asked as Ororo cradled her sore hand.

                “You made Remus leave,” she complained.

                “I made who leave?”

                “Remus, Charles’ guest—the man who was sitting in here with me before _you_ barged in.”

                “Oh, him.  Looks a bit sick, don’ he?”

                “Shut up, Logan,” said Ororo.  “I was enjoying his company and his hot chocolate and _you_ made him leave!”

                “What the hell’d I do?”

                “I don’t know, _you_ tell _me_!”

                “Never seen him before in my life.”

                “And considering you remember nothing earlier than fifteen years ago, that means so much,” she said.

                Logan shrugged.  “Maybe he knew me before, then.  He looks like he could be old enough.  He’d still probably’ve been a kid, but maybe he recognized me.”

                Ororo narrowed her bright, blue eyes dangerously.  “I’m going to go find him, Logan,” she snapped, “and when I bring him back, you’d better apologize for…for…for whatever it is you did.”  Not waiting for a reply, Ororo stood up and stormed out of the kitchen.  Left behind, Logan simply shrugged and dug through the fridge for his not-so-secret stash of beer.

 

                Remus’ calm face was a façade.  Inside, his mind was in turmoil.  Over and over in his head he relived one of the worst moments in his life…

 

                **_December 24, 1977_ :**  It was Remus Lupin’s first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and he had decided to come home for Christmas.  While he was making friends for the first time in his memory (Jessi Martini and Sirius Black wouldn’t have it any other way—not to mention his cousin James Potter), he was desperately homesick.  He had been pleasantly surprised to be picked up from the train station not by his magical mother Alexandra Lupin, but by his muggle father James Howlett.  Eleven-year-old Remus promptly abandoned his dignity upon seeing the man and ran to him (in full view of all his friends), jumping into his father’s arms and allowing the compactly built man to swing him around in his strong arms and ruffle his tawny blondish-brown hair fondly, a sparkle of amusement in his brown eyes.  After greeting Remus’ friends (with a special ruffle to James’ hair—he _was_ named after Remus’ dad, after all, and was also his godson), father and son left on Remus’ dad’s motorbike (his mum would have a conniption if she ever found out).

                Nothing exceptional happened over break until Christmas Eve.  That night was the first night of the December full moon and Remus’ dad decided to take his son out for the day—partly to wind him down and get his mind off his impending transformation and partly to do some last minute Christmas shopping.  Father and son went about the town together—James telling Remus stories about growing up with his brother Victor Creed and Remus amusing his dad with the many escapades he and his friends got up to on a regular basis at Hogwarts.

                The pair was laughing so hard that they didn’t hear the multiple pops of apparition behind them.  It wasn’t until the first spell grazed past James’ ear that they realized that they were surrounded by several masked wizards in black robes.  Growling, James pushed his son behind him, shielding the boy from harm.  James and the wizards exchanged words; all Remus really understood was that they wanted him and his dad dead.  Remus’ eyes widened in shock as he saw bone claws suddenly extend from his father’s hands.  Pushing Remus to the ground and telling him to “stay down,” James gave a loud roar of anger and attacked the wizards with great frenzy, his claws flying nearly as fast as their spells.

                Soon there was only one wizard left.  Remus found himself staring at the tip of a wand, which was slowly gathering eerie green light, and he knew in that instant that he was going to die.  Dimly he heard a roar of pain/anger/ anguish, but he ignored it and closed his eyes, praying for his death to be painless and quick.  But instead of welcoming darkness, there was—nothing.  He opened his eyes when he heard a soft thump and stared in horror.  His father had killed the final wizard, but in the process he had not dodged the _Avada Kedavra_ that had been aimed at his son.  James Logan Howlett was dead.

 

                **_Present Day_ :**  “Remus, please!  Wait!”

                Remus stopped and waited for Ororo to catch up to him.  “I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly,” he apologized, staring at the floor, arms hugging his chest.  “It was exceedingly rude of me.

                “Never mind that, Remus.  What happened?  What did Logan _do_ to you?”

                “Ah.  So he goes by Logan now,” Remus said dully.

                “What happened, Remus?” Ororo persisted.

                “I saw him die.”

 

                **_November 22, 1994_ :**  Remus hadn’t slept a wink after he’d parted ways with Ororo last night.  He was so out of it as he made his way down to the kitchen around seven AM that he didn’t even notice the multitude of curious looks he was getting from the students who were just getting up and starting their day.  It was only thanks to his near photographic memory and pure luck that he made it down to the kitchen without getting lost.

                Once he found the kitchen, he was at a loss.  He had no idea where anything was and every bit of manners that had been drilled into him by his aunt told him that it would be very rude indeed to start rummaging around willy-nilly.  He stood in the open doorway like a statue for a good ten minutes before someone finally took pity on him.

                “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

                Remus blinked and looked down at the smiling teenage girl who had spoken.  “I-I’m a guest of Professor Xavier,” he said.  “I wasn’t- I-I just—”

                The girl, who wore her long chestnut hair pulled up in a high ponytail, grinned and tugged on Remus’ sleeve gently.  “C’mon; I’ll show you around.  We’re pretty informal breakfast-wise here, but most of the teachers are done and headed to class before seven.”

                “Oh.  That’s good to know.”  Remus allowed himself to be dragged all around the large kitchen as the girl pointed out where different foodstuffs were located.

                “Anything is pretty much up for grabs, unless someone’s put their name on it,” said the girl, showing him the industrial size fridge and freezer.  “There’s always extra stuff out in the big freezer we keep in the main garage,” she added.  “With so many kids here, we go through a lot of food.  Some of the kids—and the teachers—have high metabolisms and need to consume large amounts of food to keep themselves going.  The Professor likes to make sure to accommodate for any possible scenario, so you’ll find a wide variety of food to choose from at any time.”

                Remus looked around, dazed.  “I’m getting that.”

                “Breakfast is pretty much self-serve,” she continued.  “The teachers take care of the littlest kids around six thirty, but after that it’s all up for grabs.  Lunch is generally done communally; we all pitch in to pull something together.  Dinner rotates on a schedule.  Each professor and a group of students are assigned a day to be in charge of putting the meal together.  We have leftover days on the weekends, except for special occasions.  Of course, sometimes a few of the teachers or the older kids will go out, but there’s always at least one teacher here besides the Professor.”  Remus was in awe of how much this girl could talk.  “Are you good finding breakfast now?”

                “Tea?” Remus croaked.

                The girl giggled and reached into a cupboard above the stove.  “Here you go,” she said, handing him a box of English Breakfast tea.  “The Professor likes this one.  Kettle’s on the stove.  It should be full; most of the kids and teachers here prefer coffee.  If not, feel free to fill it in the sink.  I’m Kitty, by the way.”  She glanced up at the clock on the wall.  “Oops, I have to go.  I’ve got class in ten.  Mugs are above the sink.  Enjoy!”  She snagged an apple out of a bowl on the island and ran off so fast that Remus almost wasn’t sure she had been there in the first place.

                He stood there blinking for a moment.  That girl was something else.  He’d never met someone who could talk quite as much (or as fast) as her.  He shook himself awake and proceeded to set the kettle to boil.  While he waited, he rummaged around the fridge a bit before deciding to cook up some eggs and bacon.  Maybe this wasn’t shaping up to be such a bad day after all.

 

                “You wanted ta see me, Professor?”

                “Yes, please come in, Rogue.”

                The brunette girl stepped into his office and shut the door.  She sat down on the chair in front of his desk and nervously tucked her white strand of hair behind her ear.  “Am ah in trouble, Professor?” she asked.

                The Professor wheeled his chair out from behind the desk and stopped beside her.  ‘Of course not, Rogue,” he said.

                “Then why am ah here?”  The Professor wordlessly handed her a picture, the same one that Remus had handed to him the night before.  “Professor, ah don’t—”

                “Does anything in this picture look familiar to you, Rogue?”

                Rogue stared at the picture, enraptured.  “A-ah know this,” she said, brown eyes wide.  “Ah’ve seen this baby before; ah’m sure of it.”

                The Professor was slightly surprised by that response; he’d been expecting a reaction about the woman, who he thought looked quite a bit like Rogue.  “The baby?”  He looked over her shoulder to glance again at the photograph.  “You’re sure.”

                Rogue nodded.  “A-ah was adopted when ah was a baby; ah have a locket from mah birth family and it has a picture inside it of a little boy and a baby girl.  Ah know ah’m the baby girl and the baby in this picture looks exactly like that one.”  She looked up at him, eyes hopeful.  “Professor, is this me?”

                “I believe so, Rogue,” he replied, “though it was the woman who caught my eye and not the baby.  Does she look familiar to you?”

                Rogue took a moment and scrutinized the woman in the picture.  Her brown hair hung down past her shoulders in slight waves and her blue eyes sparkled as she stared at the child, frozen forever in time.  “Sh-she looks a bit like me,” she said, awe in her voice.  “Is-is this mah _mother_?”

                The Professor sighed.  “According to the young man who gave me the picture, no she is not.  If you are indeed the child in that photograph, then that woman is your aunt; your mother’s sister.”

                Rogue looked at the woman with a new perspective.  “We have the same eyes,” she said softly.  “Ah mean, the color is different, but the shape is identical.  And ah have her nose.”  She looked up at the Professor, hope filling her eyes.  “Professor,” she said, “is this real?”

                “Very real, my dear,” he said, smiling at her.

                “A-and the man who gave this to you?” she said, her hold on the photo tightening.  “Is he still here?”

                “Indeed he is,” replied the Professor.  “He is currently residing in one of the guest rooms in the teachers’ wing.”

                “He-he must know more about me—about _this_ —if he had this picture.  Can ah meet him?  Maybe he can tell me about mah parents.”

                The Professor put his hand on the teen’s shoulder.  “I should imagine he will be delighted to meet you, Rogue,” he said.  “First, however, I must tell you the rest of the story that goes with that photograph.”

                “There’s more?” Rogue said, her focus intent on the photo in her hands.

                “Yes there is,” he replied.  “The young man who gave that to me came looking for my help in finding someone dear to him, someone who he has not seen in many years.”

                “Who?” she asked.

                “He is looking for his sister; a girl, about sixteen-years-old, named Marie.”

                Her gaze shot up from the picture to stare at the Professor.  “M-Marie?  You think ah could be the sister?”

                “More and more each passing moment,” he replied, his crystal blue eyes serious.  “I think that you just might be.”

                “Can- can ah meet him?” she asked.

                “Certainly, Rogue.  I can have one of the teachers bring him up her right now, if you’d like.”

                “N-no,” she said, “ah need some time to think.  Can Logan meet him with me?  Ah don’t want to be alone.”

                “Certainly,” replied the Professor.  “I shall facilitate the meeting, so I shall be there as well.”

                “Thank you, Professor.”

                “How does this afternoon sound?  After the lunch rush, perhaps?”

                “That sounds perfect, Professor.”

 

                “Remus Lupin?”  Remus thought he vaguely recognized the brunette man with the strange looking sunglasses as the man who’d shown him to his room the night before, but he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything last night…until he met Ororo.

                “That’s what my birth certificate says,” he responded, looking up from the _fascinating_ novel he was reading (not that he could even recall the title) in the ground floor lounge.

                “The Professor would like to see you in his office.”

                “Well, we mustn’t keep the Professor waiting, must we?” said Remus.  He’d missed lunch (the crush of hungry students proved to be more than he could handle) and was feeling a bit snarky.  Not that this man (mid-thirties, was Remus’ best guess) seemed to notice, what with the stick jammed up his arse and all.

                Remus followed Glasses Man (he was still working on what to call him) up the stairs and through a variety of corridors.  They eventually stopped in front of a familiar set of double doors.  Glasses Man knocked.  “Professor,” he said, “your guest is here.”

                “Come in,” called the Professor, his voice muffled by the heavy wooden doors.

                Remus pushed open the double doors to make a dramatic entrance.  As the doors were pulled shut behind him (by Glasses Man, he presumed), he saw who was in the room and wished that he hadn’t drawn so much attention to himself.  “What’s _he_ doing here?” he spat, spotting Logan sitting on the couch under the window.

                The older man’s dark brown eyes narrowed.  “Look, bub, I don’ know what yer problem is with me, but I’m here for Marie.  This ain’t got nothin’ ta do with ya.”

                The Professor cleared his throat loudly.  “I’m afraid that this meeting has everything to do with Remus, Logan.  He’s the reason we are gathered here this afternoon.”

                “You’re the one who brought the picture?” asked the girl sitting beside Logan.  Remus almost hadn’t noticed her, she was so quiet.

                He stared at her in wonder.  Other than the odd streak of white in her brown hair, she looked like a younger version of his beloved Aunt Joan.  “Y-you’re her,” he said.  “You’re really her.”

                “Look, bub, I dunno who ya think she is, but—”

                “Marie Julia Lupin, born August 18, 1978 and given up for adoption two months later after the death of her mother,” he said in an odd sort of detached voice.  “You know her?”

                “Logan’s the one who brought me here to the Institute,” she said, looking Remus in the eye.  “He’s my friend.”

                “Of course he is,” Remus sighed, running his hands through his shaggy mop of hair and beginning to pace in front of the Professor’s desk.

                “Remus, I don’t know what sort of problem you have with Logan,” said the Professor, “but surely you can set it aside for the moment; for Marie’s sake.”

                “Of course,” he said.  “What was I thinking holding a grudge against the man who apparently abandoned me without a second thought seventeen years ago.”

                “Look, bub,” growled Logan, “I’ve never met ya before.”

                Remus’ laughter was near hysterical.  “Never met me?  That’s rich!  I suppose then those first eleven years of my life were just my imagination then?”

                “Logan doesn’t have any memories before fifteen years ago,” said Rogue.

                “That’s bloody wonderful,” said Remus, flopping down into an armchair near the fireplace.  “Now I feel like a right prat.”

                “Perhaps if you told us how you know Logan?” suggested the Professor.

                “This was supposed to be about Marie, not me,” said Remus, not entirely comfortable with where this particular conversation was heading.

                “I-if ah’m your Marie, shouldn’t mah opinion count?” asked Rogue.

                “Of course,” said Remus, his anger deflating.  “For the record, I’m nearly one hundred percent certain you are my sister Marie.”

                Rogue nodded, her brown eyes guarded.  “Can you tell me about mah—our—parents?”

                “I can, if you’d like.  Actually, that’s tied in with how I know _Logan_.  Would you like me to tell you now or shall we gather at another time?”

                “I-if the Professor and Logan aren’t busy now would be good.”

                “I have cleared my schedule for the rest of the day, Rogue,” said the Professor.

                “I already told ya I’m here for ya, kid,” replied Logan.

                “Very well,” said Remus.  “I suggest you get comfortable then.  This could take a while.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments & kudos are very much appreciated! Flames are not.


	2. Past Meets Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus tells Rogue about their parents and the siblings bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A quick note on Kurt/Nightcrawler: I've set his age as being somewhere between Remus' 28 and Rogue's 16. And yes, there is a very good chance that Kurt will become a large part of this story...which means I get to delve into his background and make things work together how I want them to work! Yay! ;)

** Chapter 2: Past Meets Present **

****

                **_November 22, 1994_ : **“Our parents met in the summer of 1964.  Mum had just graduated from secondary school and had decided to go out celebrating with some friends.  They went out drinking and dancing in London one evening and she somehow wound up separated from the others.  She was a bit sloshed and unfamiliar with the city.  She wound up down the wrong street and was being mugged by a couple of nasty thugs when Dad showed up on the scene.  He told her after that he usually didn’t do the whole rescuing the damsel in distress thing, but something about her drew him in.  He jumped right in and beat up the thugs and took Mum to the inn he was staying at with his brother.

                “When Mum woke the next morning in a strange room, she panicked.  Dad liked to tell how she nearly scalped him with her fingernails, but she always insisted that she barely scratched him.  Once Mum had calmed down a bit, Dad was able to explain what had happened the night before.  Mum was so grateful that she offered to buy him a drink to thank him.  He laughed in her face and told her that she couldn’t hold her liquor.  Mum had a bit of a temper and yelled at him in about three different languages, insulting his parentage, his manhood, and his honor.  Dad just laughed at her.  Truth be told, he was amused.  Mum was all of five foot five to his six two; short of height and temper, but never on brains or beauty.  Once her temper had steamed off, Dad agreed to go out for a drink.

                “After that one date, they didn’t meet again until about three months later.  Mum’s older sister, our Aunt Joan, was getting married at her fiancé’s estate just outside of London and Mum was the maid of honor.  For the hen party, Mum and Aunt Joan went clubbing in the city with some girlfriends.  This time Dad saw Mum before she got into any kind of trouble.  It was the first bar they hit and Mum was only a few shot in when Dad came up and asked her to dance.  She recognized him right away and accepted.  Now, she was either more sloshed than she ever admitted to Aunt Joan or she had a sudden fit of impulsiveness because she asked Dad to be her date to her sister’s wedding.  Dad accepted.

                “They started officially dating after Aunt Joan married Uncle Chris.  It was nearly a year to the day of their first meeting when Dad proposed to her and she accepted.  The trouble started when Mum and Dad went to tell Grandfather Lupin that they were engaged.  The Lupin family is what we like to call old money and Grandfather felt that Dad was so far beneath Mum that he was dirt on her shoes.  Not only did he come from a family of no consequence, but he had no money or home to speak of and, to add insult to injury, he was from the Americas.  It didn’t matter to Grandfather that Dad was actually Canadian; the whole continent was bad news to him.  When Mum refused to break off the engagement, Grandfather disowned her.

                “Dad had actually been saving up money for a while and was not as destitute as Grandfather thought.  He used that money to buy a small piece of land outside Lancaster and that’s where they got married.  I came along about eight months later and life was good for a while.  When I was four, I was in an accident that scarred me for life and left my immune system completely wrecked.  Mum was devastated and Dad was determined; he spent every last bit of money he had saved up trying to find a way to cure me of my ailment, to no avail.

                “When I was eleven, I got accepted into the same secondary school that Mum had attended.  I was so happy to be able to go, despite my poor health.  Mum and Dad were so proud of me when I got my acceptance letter.  And so I went away to school, returning for Christmas break to spend time with my parents.

                “That Christmas Eve, Dad and I went for a walk into the nearest town to buy some last minute gifts and supplies.  That was the night our lives went to hell.  Dad and I were attacked that night by a group of terrorists who thought that people like Mum shouldn’t mix with people like Dad.  Dad was amazing; he fought them off left and right, but one got through.  I remember staring death in the face and knowing it would be my end.  I closed my eyes and when I opened them…Dad had killed my attacker, but in the process he had been killed as well.

                “Mum found out she was pregnant again after I went back to school.  She slowly grew weaker and weaker as the baby grew; Aunt Joan said that she always knew it was only a matter of time.  Marie Julia Lupin was born in August of 1978.  She was a beautiful baby with a head full of dark hair, like Dad’s.  I was instantly smitten with her; she was so tiny and fragile, but she was mine.  I loved her with all my heart and I always thought I’d have my whole life to show her how much she meant to me.

                “Mum died in October of that same year.  Her health finally gave out and she simply didn’t wake up one morning.  She and Marie had been living with Aunt Joan ever since Dad had been killed, so at least neither was alone.  After Mum died, Aunt Joan and Uncle Chris wanted to take both Marie and myself in.  They only had one child, our cousin James who was only seventeen days younger than me, but had always wanted more.  Their hopes were dashed by a bigoted Ministry.  They were told that they would have to choose between Marie or me; the adorable little baby girl who had every chance in the world of being adopted by a good family or the damaged and sickly pre-teen boy who was more trouble than he was worth.  Sometimes I wonder if they made the right choice.

                “So that is the story of our family, right from the beginning.  I tell it to you as it was told to me by Aunt Joan.”

                Rogue was speechless.  “S-so, our parents are dead?  They didn’t give me up because they didn’t want me?”

                “Oh no, Marie,” said Remus gently, “They wanted you very much.  They always talked about having a big family, but Mum was never able to conceive after me…until you.”

                “An’ how do I fit into this story of yours?” asked Logan.  “You ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout me; I thought you said it all tied together.’

                “It does,” said Remus shortly.  “Our Mum was Alexandra Julia Lupin, eldest daughter of Johnathan Lupin.  Our father…his name was James Logan Howlett and the only family he ever talked about was his older half-brother, Victor Creed.”  At Logan’s blank stare Remus huffed in frustration and added, “You’re James Logan Howlett, _Dad_.”

                “That’s imposs—I _can’t_ be—I’d remember—”

                “Logan, you don’t remember anything before fifteen years ago,” said the Professor.

                “I watched my father die seventeen years ago,” said Remus.  “I don’t know how it is that you are still alive, because I know what I saw.”

                “So, what,” snapped Logan, “yer upset cause yer old man ain’t as dead as ya thought?  Some son you are, bub.”

                “No,” said Remus, amber eyes flashing dangerously, “I’m _upset_ because my father has apparently been alive for seventeen years and never once bothered to come let me know.”

                “Look, bub, the Professor told ya—”

                “That you lost your memories fifteen years ago, yes.  But what about those two years before you lost them?  Did you just suddenly decide that having a kid—kids—was too hard?  Why didn’t you come back?  Did you think I would have cared that you weren’t really dead?  I would have given _anything_ to have my father back.”

                “Look, kid,” said Logan, his voice softening, “I’d love to tell ya why I did what I did, but I just _don’t know_.  The first thing I remember is waking up on Three Mile Island after being shot in the head.  The only reason I had any idea of what to call myself was because of my dog tags and some guy who seemed to know me finding me on that beach.”

                Remus was silent, staring into the empty fireplace in contemplation.  “I suppose we shall never know then,” he finally said, his voice clipped.  “Thank you for your time, Professor,” he added, standing up and crossing over to shake Charles’ hand.

                “You are very welcome, Remus,” said the Professor warmly.  “Please stay here as long as you’d like.”

                “Thank you.”  He turned to Rogue and added, “Marie, please feel free to seek me out whenever you are ready.  I promise not to push.  It was wonderful to meet you.”  He shook her gloved hand, shot a glare at Logan, and left the room.

                “Professor,” said Rogue, staring out the open door, “would you mind if ah—”

                “Of course not, Rogue.  You may handle this as you see fit.  Just know, we are all here for you.”

                “Thanks, Professor.”  Rogue shot an uncertain smile at Logan and fled out the door.

                “Don’ tell me Marie actually took off after that kid,” said Logan, lounging further into the sofa.  He pulled out a cigar from his shirt pocket and absently began to chew on it.

                “How Rogue deals with this rather unique situation is entirely up to her,” replied Charles.  “I refuse to influence her one way or another; I am simply here to guide and to advise.”

                Logan let out a bark of laughter.  “Sure, Chuck,” he said.  “What advice d’ya got for me?”

                Charles raised his eyebrow.  “You, my friend, are another story entirely.  We’ve tried nearly everything I can think of to restore your memories and yet…”

                “Still no memories,” said Logan, rapping his forehead with his knuckles.  “Any new bright ideas?”

                “Perhaps,” said Charles slowly.  “There is one thing I haven’t tried.”

                “Well?  What are we waiting for?  If what the kid said is true…”  Logan clenched his jaw and his eyes were filled with turmoil.  “If what he said is true, I haveta know, Chuck.  What kind of man was I that I would abandon my wife and kid?”

                Charles smiled sadly.  “I’m sure you had your reasons, Logan.”

                He snorted.  “Yeah, but were they good enough?”

                “I wish I could tell you that, my friend.  Give me a day to sort things out and I may have a solution to your problem.”

                Logan raised a dark eyebrow.  “Just like that?”

                Charles smirked, an odd look on his kind face.  “I have many friends in high places, Logan.  When I put my mind to it, there’s little I can’t achieve.”

 

                Besides Logan, Rogue’s closest friend at the mansion was a young mutant just a few years older than her.  He was a mischievous teleporter who, like herself, was an orphan.  It was this shared beginning that had brought the two together shortly after Rogue’s arrival at Xavier’s.  Kurt Wagner might look like a demon with his blue skin, pointed tail, and fangs, but he had a heart of gold and always sought out the best in others.  He was firm in his faith, but never pestered Rogue (or anyone else) to conform to his beliefs.  He was the only person besides Logan she allowed to call her by her given name.

                The first place she always looked for her furry friend was the small chapel on the ground, situated behind the main house back where the grassy lawns gave way to lush trees.  Rogue gently pushed open the wooden door and called out, “Hello?  Kurt?”

                A _poof_ and a cloud of blue smoke announced the German mutant’s arrival.  “Guten tag, Marie,” he said, baring his fangs in a smile that reached all the way to his glowing yellow eyes.

                “Hi Kurt,” she said, attempting to reciprocate, but falling flat.

                “Vat is the matter, Marie?” he asked kindly, placing a three-fingered hand on her shoulder.

                Rogue finally lost her composure, tears falling from her chocolate brown eyes in a steady stream.  “Oh Kurt,” she sobbed.  “Ah don’t know what to do.”

                He guided her over to one of the pews and sat down with her.  “Tell me vat is wrong, meine freundin.”

                Rogue sniffed and wiped at her nose with the long arm of her glove.  “Ah just found mah birth family, Kurt,” she said, ‘and ah’m not sure what to do.  Ah don’t even know how ah’m supposed to react to this, fer cryin’ out loud!”

                Kurt gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.  “Der is no right way for you to act, Marie,” he said.  “Your feelings are your own and no one can tell you vat you must feel.”  He pulled the young woman close, letting her lay her head on his shoulder.  “Tell me about dis family of yours, meine Marie.”

                Rogue closed her eyes as Kurt gently ran his thick fingers through her hair.  “Ah have a brother,” she said quietly.  “He’s about a decade older than me, ah think.  He’s spent most of mah life looking for me.”

                “Vat is he like?”

                “Well, he seems kind…mostly.  He’s holding on to a lot of anger toward his— _our_ —father.”

                “This is upsetting to you?”

                “Well, yeah.  It’s just…he says that _Logan_ is our father.  He said that Logan abandoned him when he was a kid.  Well, he said that he watched his dad die, but since Logan’s here that obviously didn’t happen.  Ah just don’t know what ah’m supposed to do, Kurt!”  She buried her face in her gloved hands.  “It’s just too much,” she said softly.

                “Oh Marie,” Kurt said gently.  “Your feelings are perfectly normal.  You are very close with Logan and you do not like someone else—a stranger, truly—pointing out his flaws to you.  But you must remember that your Logan is a very different person that your brother’s Logan.  There are at least seventeen years between the two, vith the scars of many battles, both mental and physical, and a fractured memory along the vay.  In many vays, your brother still sees Logan through the eyes of a hurting child and vill react to him thusly.  You, on the other hand, see Logan as your protector and friend; vether you know it or not, you already see him as a brother or father figure.  I think that it is your brother and his issues with Logan that are causing you grief.”

                Rogue lifted her head from her hands and gave the blue mutant a small smile.  “How do you always know just what ah need to hear, Kurt?”

                Kurt shrugged, his cheeks blushing slightly purple.  “It is my gift, miene freundin.  You know that I am always here for you, ya?”

                “Of course, Kurt,” she replied, giving him a genuine smile.  “You’re mah best friend.”

                “And you are mine, Marie,” he replied, hugging the young woman tightly.

 

                Remus was sitting in the guest room he had been given, gently turning over the pages in a worn, leather bound book when Rogue sought him out after her talk with Kurt.  “Remus?” she called softly, standing in the open doorway of the room.

                Remus looked up and Rogue saw that he had tear tracks down his cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy.  “Oh, hello Marie,” he croaked.  “I-I was just looking through some albums from- from when I was a kid.”

                Rogue stepped softly into the room.  “Mind if ah join you?” she asked, her eyes betraying her nerves.

                Remus’ kind face melted into a smile.  “Of course not.”  He scooted over on the bed to make room.  “Come sit,” he invited.  “I don’t bite—much.”

                Rogue returned his lopsided smile with one of her own and gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed.  She glanced down at the open album lying on Remus’ lap.  One picture in particular caught her eye.  “Is that—”

                “Me and Dad,” said Remus softly, a sad sort of smile spreading across his face.  “That was taken the morning before he died.”

                Rogue leaned in closer.  “Ah know you said Logan is our dad, but this…”

                “It’s different to actually see it for yourself,” said Remus knowingly.

                “Yeah.  Were you close?” she asked.

                “Before he died—left, whatever you want to call it—we were very close.  Before I left for school, he was my best friend.  Our cousin James was my age, but we rarely saw each other before we headed off to school.  Dad was always there for me, whether I had a scraped knee or just needed someone to play pirates with me.  My favorite thing, though, was when Dad would tuck me in at night and tell me stories about his life growing up and traveling with his big brother.”

                “I didn’t know Logan had a brother,” said Rogue, fascinated.

                “I guess that’s one more thing he forgot,” said Remus bitterly.

                “It’s not his fault,” snapped Rogue, defending her protector.

                Remus sighed.  “Logically I know this, Marie,” he said, “but it’s very hard to put into practice.  I mourned him, Marie.  I watched him die in front of me and then I had to watch our mother wither away from his loss even as you grew inside of her.”  Rogue was silent as Remus turned the page.  “This is her,” he said softly, pointing to the picture of a smiling blonde woman.  Her hair was cropped to her shoulders and styled in an almost modern way.  Her eyes were a sparkling blue that glinted with mischief and vitality.  In the photo, she stared straight at the camera, smiling a toothy smile as if she had been laughing.  “Dad liked to take pictures of her,” Remus said softly, gently touching the picture with his rough finger.  “He’d sometimes walk around with the camera just so that he could catch her off guard.  She always complained, but secretly she loved it.”

                “They loved each other,” observed Rogue.

                “Very much,” replied Remus.

                Rogue turned the page to see another picture of a young Remus and Logan.  Remus, who looked to be about seven or eight, was perched on Logan’s shoulders, tugging on the wings of his hairdo (the same one he still wore) and laughing happily.  “Do you think you could ever forgive him?” asked Rogue gazing fixedly on the happy image of times gone by.

                Remus sighed.  “I don’t know, Marie,” he admitted.  “I loved him very much and he abandoned me.  I understand that he lost his memory fifteen years ago, but that still leaves two years unaccounted for.  Maybe if I knew _why_ he never came back to us…to me…”

                Rogue turned the page again, this time revealing a photo of her heavily pregnant mother sleeping on a worn sofa with her head on Logan’s lap.  Logan didn’t seem to notice that his picture was being taken; he was too engrossed in staring lovingly at his wife and stroking her hair.  “What-what if the Professor could find a way to bring back Logan’s memories?  Would you give him a chance?”

                Remus stared at the picture in the album.  “Of course I would,” he said softly.  “I think a part of me will always want to forgive him.”

                “That’s all ah want,” said Rogue.  “Logan’s been like a brother or a father to me since ah met him,” she admitted.  “Ah want to get to know you too, Remus, but ah don’t like you two fighting.”

                Remus smiled gently at her.  “I will try, for you,” he said.  “I can’t promise any miracles, but I will try.”

                Rogue smiled happily up at him, finally meeting his eyes.  “Ah can live with that.”


	3. Memories Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles calls in Minerva to see if she can help Logan get his memories back.

** Chapter 3: Memories Revisited **

****

                **_November 22, 1994_ : **While Remus and Rogue got to know each other, Charles was busy contacting anyone he could think of to help restore Logan’s memories.  He had hoped to find a scientific solution to the problem, but with each phone call he made, it seemed less and less likely that he would.  Finally, as he reached the last of his scientific and mutant contacts, he decided it was time to branch into the magical.  He left his office and rolled down the hallways to his room, informing his teachers via telepathy that he was not to be disturbed for the rest of the afternoon.

                Once in his room, Charles lit his fireplace and took a small jar of green powder off of the mantle.  “Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress’ Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland,” he cried as he threw a pinch of the powder into the flames and stuck his head in.

                He’d forgotten how odd it felt to have your head travel through the flames whilst your body remained stationary.  When his head came to a stop, he found himself staring at a neatly furnished office overlooking spacious, snow-covered grounds.  “Hello?  Minerva?” he called.

                Minerva stepped into view in seconds.  She was a tall, stern-looking witch who wore her greying black hair in a tight no-nonsense bun.  Her robes were green tartan and upon her small nose perched a pair of square spectacles over sharp, dark brown eyes.  “Hello Charles,” she said, her Scottish accent as thick as ever.  “How may I help you?”

                “Hello Minerva.  I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time?  I have a situation at my school that I believe may need some magical intervention.”

                Minerva gazed sternly at him over her spectacles.  “Charles, the school year has only just begun, as I’m sure you are aware.  I cannot just up and leave my students without notice.”  Charles’ face fell.  Minerva sighed.  “Give me an hour to get things in order and I’ll come through.  I’ll give you two hours, Charles.  That’s really all that I can spare at this time.”

                “That will be plenty, Minerva, thank you,” said Charles.

                Minerva nodded tightly.  “You’re welcome.  I will see you in an hour.”

 

                As always, Minerva McGonagall was prompt.  An hour to the second after their conversation, Hogwarts’ Transfiguration Professor stepped out of the fireplace into Charles Xavier’s bedroom.  “Good afternoon, Minerva,” said Charles, smiling at the stern witch.  “Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to stop by.”

                Minerva straightened and brushed the soot off her skirts.  “Of course, Charles,” she said, her voice clipped and crisp.  “What is it that you need my help with?”

                Charles wheeled himself over to his window and indicated that Minerva should take a seat on the dark grey couch sitting beneath it.  “I have asked you here on behalf of one of my teachers; a friend who has had his memory tampered with.  I have exhausted all of my other resources in searching for a way to cure him; you are my last hope, Minerva.”

                Minerva was silent for a moment.  “I’m not sure what you expect me to do, Charles,” she said tartly.  “I have no particular affinity for memory charms, nor for the healing arts, nor would I claim so.  My specialty is transfiguration; you know this.”

                Charles sighed.  “I know, Minerva,” he said.  “I also know that you are an intelligent woman who can help me find the proper path to take to help my friend.”

                “You’re such a flatterer, Charles,” she said dryly, squeezing his hand gently.  “Of course I will do my utmost to help.  What are friends for, after all?”

                Charles chuckled.  “Indeed, Minerva,” he said, “and I am very lucky to count you among my closest.”

                “Quite,” said Minerva with a sniff that might have been covering a laugh.  “Now, may I meet this friend of yours, Charles, or am I to cure him without ever meeting the man?”

                “Certainly, my dear,” he said.  “I’ve just asked him to meet us up here.  I hope you don’t mind; I’d rather your visit be kept a secret from the rest of the school for the time being.”

                “Why Charles,” she said with a wry smile, “if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were ashamed of me.”

                “Never, my dear Minerva,” he said, placing a genteel kiss on her hand.  “I only want to keep you all to myself.”

                “Such a charmer,” Minerva said dryly.

                The old friends’ playful banter was interrupted by a knock on the door.  “Come in, Logan,” said Charles.  Minerva stood up as the door opened.  “Logan,” Charles said, wheeling himself over to the door, “I’d like you to meet my old friend, Minerva McGonagall.  Minerva, this is Logan; he’s a professor here at my school.”

                Minerva was impressed when Logan didn’t quell under her scrutinizing gaze.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Logan.”

                “I ain’t no mister,” he insisted gruffly.  “It’s just Logan.”

                “Very well, ‘just Logan,’ you may call me Professor McGonagall, or Minerva, if you must.”

                “Logan,” interrupted Charles, fearful of how Minerva would react to what the gruff mutant planned to call her, “Minerva is here at my request to see about helping you get your memories back.”

                “Look, Duchess, I don’t know what you think yer gonna do ta help me, but it’s all been tried before.  So unless you’re gonna wave some magic wand—”

                “That, Logan, is _precisely_ what I plan to do.”

                Logan looked sharply at her.  “What’re you talking about?”

                “Logan,” said Charles slowly, “there is a whole other world out there; one that exists alongside our own.  It is a world of magic, of witches and wizards and fantastical magical creatures that you have only heard of in fairy stories.  They are all very real, but very well hidden from the prying eyes of the magic-less.”

                “What the hell’re you talkin’ about, Chuck,” snapped Logan, narrowing his eyes.  “Fairy stories and magic ain’t real.”

                “They most certainly are, Logan,” said Minerva, giving the older man a stern look over her square spectacles.  “Charles here was nearly as skeptical when he found out, but he quickly accepted the truth.”

                Suddenly in place of the Scottish woman, there was a tabby cat with markings around its eyes that looked like Minerva’s glasses.  “Holy mother—” yelped Logan, jumping slightly.  “What the hell?”

                The cat morphed back into the severe, black-haired witch.  “That, Logan, was magic,” said Minerva tartly.  “Magic can do many things that science cannot.”

                “So what, yer gonna do some magic and bibbid-bobbidi-boo I’m cured?” snapped Logan.

                Minerva sniffed imperiously.  “Of course not,” she said.  “I am going to perform some basic tests to see if I can determine the cause of your memory loss and then I will call in an expert according to your needs.”

                “So yer not just gonna start pokin’ around in my head?”

                “I’m not a barbarian, Logan,” she said.  “The mind is a very delicate thing; one slip and you could be spending the rest of your life as a vegetable.  Now, Charles, why don’t you and Logan head down to Dr. McCoy’s lab and I will join you shortly.”

                “Whatcha got ta do that’s gonna keep you, Duchess?” snarked Logan.  “Gotta powder yer nose?”

                “Certainly not, Logan,” sniffed Minerva.  “I am a tenured professor, not some giddy schoolgirl with a crush.  Have care how you speak to the woman about to go poking around in your head.”

                Logan winced.  “Sorry Duchess.”

                “Apology accepted.  Now you boys head on down.”

                “What are you up to, Minerva?” asked Charles, quirking an eyebrow at his friend on his way to the door.

                “I think you know, Charles.”

                “Ah, yes.  Well, tell Erik I said hello.”

                “Of course.  I will be down shortly.”

 

                “Charles! Logan.  What can I help you with today?” asked the large blue-furred man standing in front of a sleek, futuristic computer screen.

                “Hank, if you wouldn’t mind setting your machines to do another scan of Logan’s brain, we have someone coming down to take another look,” said Charles.  “She may be able to help Logan with his memory troubles.”

                “Of course, Charles,” said Hank, already moving around the lab with the familiarity of long practice, flipping switches and entering codes.  “May I ask who you’ve brought in for this consultation?”

                “That would be me, Henry.”

                Hank spun around and grinned wide, exposing his glistening white fangs.  “Minerva McGonagall,” he said fondly, “it has been far too long.”  He stepped forward to give her a gentle hug.  “How have you been?”

                “I’ve been well, Henry,” she said with a genuine smile.  “How are you?”

                “Things have been looking up lately,” said Hank.  “You were right about teaching, Minerva.  I’m so glad I took your advice.”

                Minerva sniffed primly, a twinkle of mischief in her dark eyes.  “You should know I’m always right when it matters, Henry,” she teased.

                He chuckled.  “A lesson I shall always cherish, Minerva,” he said, his voice expressing his deep gratitude and affection.

                “Can we get on with this?” snarled Logan impatiently.

                “Of course,” said Hank, guiding the older mutant over to a metal table.  “Just lie down here.  I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as possible.”

                Ten minutes of poking, prodding, and whirring machines later, Hank was done.   “Is that all you need, Henry?” asked Minerva.

                “Yes,” the blue furred doctor replied.  “I should have the results back within the hour.  Will you be sticking around, Minerva?”

                “Of course,” she replied.  “I need to look over those results to determine what our next steps should be.”

                “Of course,” said Hank.  “I shall see you again soon, then.”

                “Come Minerva,” said Charles, wheeling over beside her.  “It’s been years since your last visit to my school.  Let me give you a tour and you can regale me with tales of all of your favorite and most troublesome students.

                Minerva laughed and placed her hand on his shoulder.  “That sounds simply lovely, Charles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So Minerva McGonagall was meant to only make a cameo in this chapter, but then she appeared and sort of laughed at me and said "Nope, I'm here to stay. Oh and guess what? I'm married to Erik Lensherr; have been since the fifties. Deal with it." Don't really know how it happened, but she kept insisting they were married before First Class and that she was Pietro & Wanda's mother's, so there's that cannon divergence for you. Most likely there'll be more on this development later... again, this was totally not planned or anything, but when the plot dragons insist...
> 
> You don't anger the plot dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup.
> 
> Please leave a comment or kudos! I love comments & kudos! (Flames make me cry.)


	4. The Foibles of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Rogue continue to bond while Minerva plans a family outing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I would like to say that I loved Quicksilver in DoFP so I'm modeling my Pietro mostly after him (with a little Evo thrown in for good measure). I loved AoU, but I liked Pietro better in DoFP than AoU. I may later include some elements of AoU Pietro, but no guarantees at this point.

** Chapter 4: The Foibles of Family **

****

                **_November 22, 1994_ : **Time flew by as Remus and Rogue poured over his photo albums and sifted through his far-off memories of their parents.  Rogue couldn’t help but notice, however, that despite all the stories he told about their parents, their aunt and uncle, and their cousin, he said precious little of himself.  Deciding that the best way to get her newly-found brother to open up was to talk about her own childhood, she dove right in.  “So, mah adopted parents were pretty great.  Well, right up until mah powers showed and ah ran off, anyway,” she said.

                “You have powers too?” asked Remus softly.  “I thought I was the only one.”

                Rogue smiled sadly.  “You’re not alone, Remus,” she said.  “We all have powers here.  This _is_ a school for mutants, after all.”

                Remus furrowed his brow.  “Is that was it is?” he said.  “I thought it was maybe just my magic reacting to the curse.”

                Rogue looked at her brother in confusion.  “Magic?  Magic’s not real, right?  And what curse are you talking about?”

                Remus sighed and closed his amber eyes tiredly.  “We still have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

                “Ah’ll say,” said Rogue.  “Ah’ll tell you more about mah power if you tell me about yours.”

                He smiled softly at her.  “Deal.  Shall I start or would you like to?”

                “Ah’ll start,” she said.  “Ah’m the one who brought it up.”

 

                Minerva and Charles chatted amicably as they wandered through the halls of the mansion.  “Are you planning to see Erik while you’re here?” Charles asked curiously.

                Minerva pursed her lips.  “I ought to,” she said.  “He _is_ my husband after all.”

                “You’ve known him longer than I,” said Charles.  “I’m sure it would cheer him to see you.”

                “I know it would,” said Minerva, sighing.  “He is much changed from the angry boy I married long ago, but in some ways he is still _exactly_ the same.”

                “He still loves you,” said Charles.

                “He loves his power and his crusade more.”  Charles could not argue with that.  Minerva sighed.  “Perhaps I shall call the children and see if we can’t make a family outing of it.  Pietro still talks to Erik, as does Malcolm, and the girls as well, but Wanda…”  She sighed again.

                “She resents him,” said Charles knowingly.

                “Aye,” agreed Minerva.  “He was never there for her growing up and she is far too much like him for her own good.”

                Charles smiled softly.  “She has much of you in her, though, my dear friend.”

                Minerva smiled back.  “That she does.  Of all our children, she is both the most and the least like us both.”  Charles gently squeezed Minerva’s hand in comfort.  “Oh alright, I’ll do it,” she said wearily.  “May I use your fireplace again, Charles?”

                “Always, Minerva.  I do hope your visit does all of you some good.”

                “I hope so too, Charles, I really do.”

 

                “Honey, there’s a head in our fireplace again.”

                Wanda Summers groaned and rolled over on the couch to bury her face against the back.  “Tell Pietro to man up and stop freaking out over every little thing his kids do,” she mumbled.

                A large, warm hand rested on her head.  “It’s not Pietro,” said her husband, his voice rumbling through her brain.  “It’s your mother.”

                Wanda sighed and rolled back over to look into her husband’s clear blue eyes, staring down at her sympathetically.  “Can’t you tell her I’m napping, Alex?” she whined.

                Alex glanced over toward the fireplace.   “Judging by the look on her face, she heard you.”

                “Damn,” cursed Wanda, leveraging herself into a sitting position and gently clutched at her swollen belly.  “I’m too old for this pregnancy shit,” she grumbled and Alex took her hand to pull her to her feet.

                “Just think how I feel,” mumbled Alex, who was ten years older than his wife.

                Wanda glared at the blonde man.  “ _You’re_ not the one carrying a beach ball around in your stomach,” she snapped.  “Besides, _you_ did this to _me_.”

                “It takes two to tango, sweetheart,” he snapped back.  “God, I’m gonna be in my sixties before this kid’s out of the house.”

                “That’s what we call an empty-nest child, dears,” said Minerva, her eyes sparkling with amusement in the fireplace.  “Were it not for Lorna, Malcolm would have been mine.”

                Wanda groaned again.  “God, this kid’s gonna be closer in age to her _uncle_ than her siblings.”

                Minerva’s look turned stern.  “You’re the ones who wanted another baby, may I remind you,” she said.  “I warned you of the difficulties of such a space between children, but you decided you wanted another one anyway.”

                “I know, I know,” said Wanda, settling down onto the cream colored footstool Alex brought over for her.  “I’m sure that’s not what you flooed about, though, Mum.  What can I do for you?”

                “I’m in Westchester at Xavier’s,” said Minerva.  “I wanted to ask you to please join our family outing to see your father this evening.  Pietro, Mattie, and Lorna have all agreed and I’m pulling Malcolm out of school after his classes are done for the day.”

                Wanda stiffened.  “You want me to voluntarily go see Dad,” she said, her voice dangerously low.

                Minerva raised an eyebrow at her eldest daughter.  “I’d greatly appreciate your cooperation in this, Wanda dear,” she said.  “You don’t have to bring the children or your husband; it’s just going to be your siblings and myself.”

                Wanda huffed angrily.  “Fine, I’ll go,” she snapped.  “But I won’t like it and I won’t promise to talk to him.”

                “I’ll take what I can get,” said Minerva dryly.  “Floo over to Charles’ room around six o’clock this evening please.  We’ll meet up there then portkey over to the prison.  Don’t be late.”

                “Of course not, Mum.  I’ll see you then.”

                “I love you, darling,” said Minerva, her voice softening.  “Thank you for doing this for me.”

                Wanda rolled her dark eyes (just like her mothers’).  “Of course, Mum.  Love you too.”

 

                “So your bare skin can absorb other people’s powers and memories?” said Remus.

                Rogue nodded.  “Their life force too, if ah touch them skin tah skin for too long,” she said.

                Remus hugged her gently.  “I’m sorry, Marie,” he said sadly.  “That’s no way to live.”

                She shrugged.  “Ah’m learning to deal with it,” she said.  “It’s not perfect, but ah’m just glad not to hurt anyone else.  The voices don’t go away, though,” she admitted.  “Ah don’t need anyone else up there, if ah can help it.”

                Remus nodded.  “I can understand that,” he said.  “Not that my powers are anything like that,” he added.  “I always thought they were just an extension of either my magic or my curse until the school nurse told me that I healed abnormally fast, even for one of my kind.”

                “ _Yer_ kahnd?” said Rogue, frowning.  “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

                Remus sighed heavily.  “I suppose it’s better to get this all out in the open now.  Magic is real, Marie.  Our family is magical, on Mum’s side, going back to the founding of Rome.  To top that off, something happened to me when I was a child, back even before I went off to boarding school.”

                “What happened?” asked Rogue, taking the news of magic in stride.

                “When I was four years old, I was bitten by a werewolf,” said Remus solemnly.  “Some of the myths I’ve read regarding lycanthropy are ridiculous, but it is very true that if you are bitten by a transformed werewolf, you will become one yourself on the next full moon.  There is no cure.  Mother spent the better part of the family fortune trying to find a cure, but of course she never did.  Father simply took it in stride and ensured that I could take care of myself should I ever be attacked for what I am.”  His gaze drifted over to the closed door.  “Perhaps I understand his reasoning a bit better now that I am older, but at the time I thought it was a splendid game.  No matter my feelings for the man now, I shall always be grateful that he gave me the tools I needed to survive in a world where people like me are looked down upon and persecuted for something that we simply cannot control.”

                Rogue was silent for a moment.  “Ah know it doesn’t compare,” she said slowly, “but ah know something about being looked at as a social pariah because of something you can’t control.”

                Remus smiled sadly at her.  “What a pair we make,” he joked weakly.

                Rogue smiled back and tentatively hugged him around the shoulders.  “At least we have each other to be outcasts with now,” she said.  “Well, this whole school as well.  We’re pretty much all social outcasts here.”

                Remus’ smile grew warmer.  “Yes, I suppose there is that.  Do you like it here, Marie?”

                “Very much,” she replied.  “Ah’ve never felt ah really belonged anywhere until ah came here.”

                Remus nodded his head slightly.  “I’m glad to hear it.”  He paused, then continued on tentatively.  “If you like, I’ll tell you about my childhood now,” he offered.

                She smiled wider.  “Ah’d like that very much Remus.”

 

                Minerva was the first to arrive back in Charles’ room that evening, her thirteen-year-old son Malcolm at her heels.  She didn’t have to wait long for her middle daughters to show, one right after the other.  They offered their mother warm greetings and ruffled their little brother’s mop of dark hair affectionately before settling in to wait for the twins.  Pietro came through next, forcefully pushed through the fireplace by his irritated wife who needed a break from his overzealous parenting of their own young twins.  Wanda was last to arrive, making it to the room just before the grandfather clock in the Professor’s study chimed six.  She dusted off her jeans and accepted the cooing and fawning of her sisters (and Pietro) with more prickliness than usual.

                “Are we ready to set off?” asked Minerva after Malcolm had his turn to greet his eldest sister.

                “Let’s get this over with,” said Wanda, her voice devoid of emotion.

                “Tell us how you _really_ feel, sis,” snarked Pietro.

                “Children,” snapped Minerva, “I will not tolerate fighting tonight.  If you cannot be civil to one another—or to your father—I _will_ silence the lot of you.  Are we clear?”  A chorus of ‘Yes Mother’ answered her promptly.  She nodded her head.  “Good.  Now, everyone grab ahold of the portkey,” she held out a green ball of yarn, “and we’re off in five, four, three, two, one.”  The McGonagall family disappeared from Xavier’s mansion with a slight pop, leaving nothing behind but a small trace of ash on the crème colored carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Minerva & Erik's kids are as follows (if anyone is interested): Pietro & Wanda (38), Mathilda "Mattie" (27), Lorna (19), and Malcolm (13). Wanda is married with three grown kids: Morgan (20) and twins Zoë & Soren (18) (Yes, she was eighteen when she had the first kid; I messed up the math and had to fudge around with the numbers to fix things without rewriting everything I had.). Pietro is married and has twins Norah & Jude (2). Mattie is also married with twins Morwen & Mikhail (7), Deirdre (4), and Ioan (2).
> 
> Mattie is, in my head, Pietro's little sister in DoFP (the one he watches TV with). I don't know much about Lorna other than who she is, so she's kinda going to be my own creation, if I do much with her at all. Malcolm is my own HP creation that I came up with when I discovered that McGonagall was married; outside of this story he is Minerva's late-in-life son with her husband Elphinstone Urquat.
> 
> Comments & kudos are the lifeblood of my plot dragon muses, so feed them please! (Flames may cause them to run and hide.)


	5. Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva and the kids visit Erik, Remus makes a new friend, and Rogue and Logan chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So I just want to say up front that I'm basing Magneto's prison off of what I can remember from X2 when Xavier visits him...but it's been a while since I actually watched it, so...I hope it turned out okay.

** Chapter 5: Sins of the Father **

****

**_November 22, 1994_ :  **The McGonagalls landed in the back of an empty alley about a block away from the prison.  “Come along now,” Minerva instructed her children, transfiguring her black robes into a simple dress with a wave of her wand and storing the yarn in her bag.

                The small group walked together in silence down the lamp lit street to the visitors’ entrance.  “We’re here to visit Erik Lehnsherr,” Minerva told the guard at the main desk.

                “All of you?” said the large man, cocking an eyebrow curiously.

                “Yes,” said Minerva curtly.  “We’re his family.”

 

                Rouge finally left Remus’ room around dinner time.  The pair had decided to meet up again in the morning so that Rogue could give her brother a tour of the school and introduce him to her friends.  In the meantime, Remus decided to turn in early, leaving Rogue to wander down to the kitchen on her own.  Though the dining room was full (as always this time of day), the kitchen had only one occupant.  Logan sat on one of the bar stools at the marble-topped island, nursing a beer and staring at the wall with an intense frown on his face.

                “Hello, Marie,” he said gruffly without turning when she entered.

                “Hi Logan,” she said, pulling out a plate and filling it from the pots on the stove (tonight was spaghetti with breadsticks, meatballs, and a vegetable medley).  Once that was done, she grabbed a can of Diet Coke from the fridge and sat down beside him.

                “How was your day?” Logan asked, taking a deep gulp of his beer.

                “It was nice,” said Rouge.  “Ah like Remus; he’s a nice guy.  He showed me pictures and told me stories about our parents and the rest of our family.”

                Logan grunted.  “He still think I’m yer dad?” he asked.

                “Yeah,” said Rogue, “an’ if the pictures are anythin’ to go by, either you’ve got an identical twin out there somewhere…or you really are our dad.”

 

                “I’m sorry ma’am,” said the nervous young guard outside Erik’s plastic prison, “but I have to search you for metal.  We can’t allow _any_ in there.”

                Minerva stared down her square spectacles at him.  “Young man,” she said, “I am _quite_ aware of the particulars of your job.  If you would be so kind as to make this quick, I would greatly appreciate it.  I would very much like to speak to my husband.”

                “Yes, ma’am,” replied the nervous guard, quickly scanning her with his metal detector.  “You’re clean.”

                “Thank you,” said Minerva primly.  “Now, children, please cooperate with Mr.,” she peered down at his badge, “Bentley, so we may get on with this visit.”

                “Of course Mother,” replied Mattie, stepping forward and allowing Mr. Bentley to scan her.  Lorna was quick to follow her sister’s example, as were Malcolm and Pietro.  Wanda required a bit of nudging from her twin before she grudgingly allowed the guard to scan her as well.

                “You’re all clear,” said Mr. Bentley.  He nodded to the second guard in the control booth and the man flipped a switch which extended a clear plastic pathway from the entrance out to Erik’s clear, plastic cell.

                Once the pathway was locked in place, Minerva led her children toward it.  The door of the cell swished open automatically when she reached it.  “Hello, Erik,” she said.  “It’s been a while.”

 

                Remus’ mind was too wired to sleep, though he certainly tried.  Finally giving up on the futile endeavor, he decided to go for a stroll out on the grounds.  Making sure to dress warmly, he made his way through the vast halls of the mansion to the ground level, where he finally found a small back door that led out into a well-kept garden.  He had already settled against the trunk of a particularly large oak before he realized he was not alone in his quest for solitude.

                “I’m sorry,” he said softly, pushing himself back to his feet, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

                “Nein, it is no trouble,” said the friendly voice in the mellow baritone of a young man.  “Please stay.”

                Remus paused and let himself slide back to the ground.  “Thank you,” he said.

                The pair sat in silence for a while until the man in the shadows finally spoke.  “Vat brings you out here tonight, mein freund?” he asked curiously.

                “Too many memories,” said Remus with a sigh.  “I can’t sleep.”

                “I understand,” said the other man.  “Sometimes mein memories grow too much for me as vell.”

                “Have you—have you ever run across a piece of your past you’d rather forget?” asked Remus hesitantly.  “Something that draws out old hurts and causes you to second guess everything you thought you knew?”

                “Ja,” replied the man after a moment.  “I have.”

                For the first time Remus looked up, peering into the shadows created by the dim evening light and the high brick wall.  With his keen, wolfish eyesight, he could make out the tall form of a man, but there was something strange about him.  “It was my father,” admitted Remus.  “I saw him die when I was a child, but now he’s suddenly here and he doesn’t even know me.”

                The man in the shadows shifted slightly into the light.  “It was meine mutter,” he said, stepping fully into the light.  “She abandoned me as a child and when we met again as adults, she still did not vant me.”

                Remus smiled sadly at the blue skinned man with glowing yellow eyes and a forked tail.  “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if I’d never known him,” he said.

                “It is not, mein freund,” said the blue man, stepping closer and gingerly sitting beside Remus.  “Mein vater died before I could know him.  Now I vill never know if he loved me or not.”

                Remus place a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.  “I suppose it hurts no matter how or when you lose your parents, eh?”

                “Ja, mein freund,” he said, smiling a smile that was full of sharp, pointed teeth, “it does.”

 

                “Hello, Minerva,” said Erik.  The man was sitting tiredly at his small table, fingering the plastic pieces of his chess set with long, elegant fingers worn with age.

                Minerva’s face softened and she sat down across from him.  “How are you, dear?” she asked gently.  “You didn’t sound well when we talked earlier.”

                “I’ve been feeling a bit under the weather,” he admitted, “but the doctors assure me that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

                “I’m glad,” said Minerva sincerely.  “Has Charles been to visit lately?”

                “He stops by every week, if he can,” replied Erik.  “How are your students?”

                “They’re a good bunch this year,” said Minerva.  “No over-the-top troublemakers as of yet, but I’ve been keeping an eye on that Charlie Weasley and Nymphadora Tonks.  Malcolm’s been hanging around them.”

                “Has he now?” said Erik, a twinkle of amusement in his clear blue eyes.  “How is the boy doing?”

                “He’s well,” replied Minerva.  “He loves it at Hogwarts.”

                “Have his powers been bothering him?”

                “No,” replied Minerva.  “He’s finally getting the hang of shifting at will.”  She paused a moment, glancing back at the walkway; the children were already halfway across.  “The children are coming, dear.”

                He looked up, startled.  “All of them?” he asked.

                “Yes, dear, all of them.”

                “Even Wanda?”

                “That was implied in ‘all of them,’ Erik.”

                “Oh, yes, right.”  He stared up at the door as they drew nearer.  “How did you convince her?” he asked.

                She raised an eyebrow.  “Maternal guilt,” she said dryly.

                Erik chuckled.  “My mother would have loved you,” he said, not for the first time.  She patted his hand in comfort and he squeezed back his thanks.

                “We’re here, Pops,” said Pietro, the first to enter the cell, with his usual exuberance and dramatic flair.  “Now we can get this party started.”

                Erik raised an eyebrow.  “I wasn’t aware prison was a party to you, son.”

                “Eh,” he said, waving his father off, “you’ve been to one, you’ve seen ‘em all.”

                “Oh really now?”

                “Boys, behave,” said Mattie serenely, passing past her brother to hug her father.  “It’s good to see you, Dad.”

                “You as well, Mathilda.  You’re looking well.  That husband of yours is treating you right?”

                “Of course, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes fondly.  “You scare the crap out of him every time you meet.”

                “Yes, well, just looking out for my little girl,” he said, meeting blue eyes that matched his own and smiling.

                “You gonna get out so you can do that for me someday?” asked Lorna, stepping forward to take her sister’s place by their father.

                Erik hugged the only child to share his powers and ran a hand over her vibrant green hair.  “You know I’d love to, dear one, but I can’t make any promises.”

                “I know, Dad,” said Lorna softly, “but a girl can dream.”

                “Hi Daddy,” said Malcolm, pushing past his taller siblings to make his presence known (at thirteen, he hadn’t yet hit his major growth spurt yet).  “I miss you.”  He hugged his father tight.

                “I’ve missed you too, little man,” said Erik, smoothing back the unruly black hair atop his youngest child’s head.  “Have you been good for your mother?”

                Malcolm rolled his eyes.  “Yes, Daddy,” he said.  He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “Momma doesn’t tell as good of stories as you…even if I _am_ getting to old for them,” he hastily added.

                Erik chuckled.  “Of course you are.  Now where’s…”  He looked up and there was Wanda, in all her pregnant glory, staring at him with a stony expression on her face.  “Hello, Wanda,” he said.

                “Hello Father.”

 

                “Are you so sure you’re _not_ our dad?” Rogue asked Logan curiously as she rinsed off her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

                Logan grunted.  “Kid, I’m not sure of anything in my past,” he said gruffly.

                “So you _could_ be,” she persisted.

                “Why are you so stuck on this?” asked Logan.

                Rogue shrugged.  “Ah just think it’d be cool to have a dad again and, well, you’re already the closest thing ah have already.  Besides, from the way he talks about him, Remus really looked up to our dad.”  She smiled crookedly at him.  “He’s a nice guy, Logan,” she said.  “Ah think he deserves to at least know for sure if you’re our dad or not.”

                “Marie, you’re awfully accepting of this whole thing,” he said warily.  “Are you sure he’s not after you for your powers?”

                “Logan, that was one time,” said Rogue, sitting back beside him and placing a gloved hand on his broad back.  “Besides, Remus isn’t like that.”

                Logan snorted.  “You don’t know that, kid.”

                “Actually ah do,” said Rogue.  “He’s a lot like you, actually, and you’re a good person, Logan.”

                “Apparently I’m not,” said Logan gruffly.  “Good guys don’t just abandon their kids—if he even _is_ my kid,” he added hastily.

                “I’m sure you had your reasons,” said Rogue logically.

                “Not sure that’s gonna be good enough this time, kid.”

 

                “You look well,” Erik said, looking over his elder daughter carefully.  “How is the baby?”

                “She’s good,” said Wanda shortly.  “I’m due in three weeks.”

                “Wonderful,” said Erik.  “I’m glad to hear it.”  An awkward silence filled the small room.  “How’s your husband?” he asked, desperate to keep the brunette woman talking to him.

                “He still hates your guts,” said Wanda bluntly.  “He didn’t even want me to come, but Mother insisted.”

                “Well, whatever your reasons, I am glad to see you, Wanda.”

                She snorted in a very unladylike fashion.  “It’s a little late for that _Dad_ ,” she said.  “You weren’t there for me growing up, you don’t get to try and worm your way into my life now.  I’ve done just fine without you thus far.”

                “Perhaps I’d like to make it up to you now, Wanda,” said Erick calmly, keeping his expression even with practiced ease.

                “Well, you should have thought of that before you chose your damn-fool crusade over your own daughter,” she snapped, eyes flashing and hands crackling with red energy.  “I’m done with you and your lame-ass, weak excuses.  Call me when you get that personality transplant, Father…or not.  I don’t really care one way or the other.”  With that, she whirled dramatically on her heel (if she’d been wearing a cape it would have billowed magnificently) and stormed out of the cell.

                “You’ve brought this on yourself, Erik,” sighed Minerva.  “Frankly, I’m surprised she spoke to you as much as she did.”

                “So am I, Minerva.  So am I.”

                “Pietro, will you go after your sister and make sure she’s alright?” Minerva asked her eldest child.

                “I’m on it, Mom,” said the silver-haired man, zipping out and back before anyone could so much as blink.  “She’s royally cheesed off, but otherwise fine,” he said.  “She doesn’t really want to talk to anyone right now, so she’s just gonna hang out in the lobby til we’re all ready to leave.”

                Minerva patted Erik’s hand consolingly.  “Someday she may forgive you, Erik,” she said.  “Until then, do remember that you have four other children who love you dearly.”

                He smiled a small smile.  “And a lovely wife I don’t deserve,” he said.

                Minerva smiled back.  “Yes, that too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'm assuming here that Kurt's parents are Mystique/Raven and Azazel and that Azazel died at some point between 1962 (FC) and 1973 (DoFP) as the latter movie seems to imply.
> 
> AN2: I don't know German at all, so I've used Google translate for all my German needs. If you notice something wrong, please let me know!


	6. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus settles into the mansion and Minerva sends Charles a healer to help Logan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sort of an interlude chapter before we delve into Logan's missing past.

** Chapter 6: Reminiscing **

****

**_November 23, 1994_ : ** Remus stared curiously into the dining room.  The large room was full of a group of younger students eating breakfast, watched over carefully by Logan and Kurt.  “Does he do this often?” he asked Rogue as he watched Logan help one of the smaller kids pour some milk from the heavy plastic carton.

                “Every couple of days,” said Rogue.  “All the teachers take turns with the little ones’ breakfast rush a few times a week.”  She glanced over at the feral mutant, who was trying to maintain a gruff façade while being hugged by a tiny, blonde girl with pigtails.  “It’s always surprised me how good he is with them, but if he’s really our dad…it kinda makes sense.”

                “He was a great dad,” said Remus softly, his eyes full of wistful reminiscence.  “I used to dream that he wasn’t really dead, that he was there for all the important moments in my life, especially the first few years he was gone.”

                “Ah sense a but in there,” said Rogue knowingly.

                “Yeah, but then I’d wake up and he’d still be dead,” said Remus, his eyes sharpening to something cold.  “Uncle Chris tried, but he just couldn’t replace him as my dad.”

                “I see you two are getting along,” said Ororo, stepping into the kitchen at the tail end of the conversation and smiling at them.  “How do you like the mansion, Remus?”

                “It’s beautiful,” said the werewolf, staring at the cocoa-skinned woman with stars in his eyes.

                “It is, isn’t it?” said Ororo, staring back at him with a similar look.

                Rogue cleared her throat loudly, startling the two adults and causing them to jump.  “If y’all are done flirtin’ now…” she trailed off at the bright blush that was spreading across Storm’s dark cheeks and the guilty look in Remus’ strange amber eyes.  “Hey, Storm, you wanna join us on Remus’ tour of the mansion?” she asked suddenly.

                The smiles that spread across both their faces were surely worth the awkward flirting she was sure would ensue once she heard Ororo say, “Of course; I would love to.”

                “Great,” said Rogue.  “Where do you want to start, Remus?”

 

                Rogue and Ororo led Remus around the upper levels of the mansion, showing him all the classrooms and the dormitory wings, the libraries and the study halls.  They didn’t stop in anyone place for long, preferring to show him as much as possible before lunchtime (though they _did_ have to practically pull him out of the largest library, which had been with the house since the Professor’s father had built it back in the 1920s).  After that, they took him on a tour of the main level, which held the kitchen, dining rooms, game rooms, art and music studios, and several common areas.  They then gave him a tour of the grounds.  The werewolf was particularly impressed with the large track-and-obstacle course and the vast tracts of land that were left wide open.  The two women also showed him the pool, the pond, the basketball court, and the multi-purpose sports field.  Rogue made sure to only briefly show him the garages and work rooms that were attached to them, as that was usually where Logan liked to spend his free afternoons.

                “How would you like to see the underground levels now?” asked Ororo.  “I’m sure the Professor wouldn’t mind.”

                “Sure,” said Remus, shrugging.  “Sounds, fun, I guess?  There’s nothing illegal going on down there, right?”

                The smile that crossed Ororo’s cocoa colored face was part excited, part predatory.  “Nothing illegal, no,” she said.  “But you really have to see it to believe it.”

 

                “Charles, do you have a moment?”

                The Professor looked up from the papers on his desk to see Minerva’s head floating in his office fireplace.  “For you, Minerva, always,” he said, wheeling closer.  “What can I help you with?”

                “I’ve found a healer to take a look at your Mr. Logan,” said Minerva crisply, getting right to the point.  “I’m having her floo over to your office in fifteen minutes.”

                “Thank you, Minerva,” said Charles, relieved.

                Minerva smiled softly at him.  “You’re quite welcome, Charles,” she said.  “Now please excuse me, but I have classes I must be getting back to.  The students have a tendency toward chaos when left alone too long… especially Miss Tonks.”

                “Of course, Minerva.  Take care.”

                “You as well Charles,” said the witch before her head disappeared from the fire.

 

                Promptly fifteen minutes later the fire flared again and this time spat a woman out.  She was tall and dark skinned, with her long black hair worn in a tight French braid.  She brushed the soot off of her black jeans, cream blouse, and red robes with the brisk efficiency of long practice.  “Are you Professor Xavier?” she asked without preamble, straightening up and fixing the bald man with her chocolate eyes.

                “Yes,” he said, holding out a hand for her to shake.  “I take it you’re the healer Minerva sent?”

                “I’m Regina Jordan-McGonagall,” the woman replied.

                Charles raised an eyebrow.  “You’re related?”

                “I’m her daughter-in-law,” she said.  “I married Pietro oh, about three years ago now.”

                “Minerva never mentioned you by name, I’m afraid,” said Charles regretfully.

                “I actually prefer it that way,” said Regina.  “This is my second marriage and the first ended in a rather bitter divorce.  Besides that, Minerva was my teacher for seven years and I’m still rather getting used to having her as part of my family.  She does dote on the twins, though, and has taken to treating my other children as if they were her own as well.”

                “Minerva’s a good woman,” agreed Charles.  “Now, did she fill you in on the situation here?”

                “Briefly,” replied Regina, switching over to professional mode in an instant.  “She mentioned that you had a colleague who had lost his memories and you were interested in exploring magical means to recover them.”

                “That pretty much sums it up, my dear,” said Charles.  “Let me take you down to the lab and I’ll let Dr. McCoy fill you in on the particulars.”

 

                Remus looked around in awe as Rogue and Ororo took him on a tour of the restricted, underground levels of the mansion.  He was particularly impressed by their descriptions of what the Danger Room could do; it would be perfect, he thought absently, should he find himself still here at the next full moon.  Their last stop was Dr. McCoy’s labs.  “He’s been grooming Jean to take over for him,” said Ororo.  “Hank’s been thinking about going into politics for a while now, but he won’t leave the Professor without an on-call physician.”

                Ororo led their little group around the corner and stopped dead in the doorway of the lab, blocking Remus and Rogue from viewing the inside.  “What’s wrong, Storm?” asked Rogue curiously, peering around the black woman.  “Oh,” she said, understanding dawning on her pale face.

                “What is it?” asked Remus.

                Rogue pulled back to look at her brother.  “Maybe we should come back later,” she suggested, biting her bottom lip nervously.

                “There’s something in there you don’t want me to see,” he observed, his eyes hardening.

                “Very astute,” said Ororo.  “What are the chances you’ll just walk away from this?”

                Remus sighed and closed his eyes briefly.  “I’ll probably regret this, but slim to none,” he said.

                Ororo nodded.  “I thought as much.”  She stepped to the side, clearing the doorway of the lab.

                Remus stepped up and peered inside, instantly regretting it.  Inside the high-tech lab sat a shirtless Logan, talking to a dark skinned woman in familiar red healers’ robes while the Professor and a blue-furred man stood by.  He quickly backed out of the room, hoping to avoid notice, but he misjudged his movement and stepped on Rogue’s foot.  The girl yelped, causing the four occupants to turn their heads to the door.  “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

                “Remus?  What the bloody hell are you doing here?” asked the woman, whose skin was several shades darker than Ororo’s, surprise evident in her voice.

                Remus’ amber eyes widened in recognition.  “I could ask the same of you, Gina,” he said, a smile creeping across his face.  “Long time no see.”

                Regina snorted and rolled her eyes at him.  “You had dinner with my family last Sunday,” she said dryly.

                Remus shrugged and grinned sheepishly.  “Yeah, well, my way sounds better.  Besides, I wasn’t expecting to see you _here_ , of all places.”

                “McGonagall called in a favor and so here I am, trying to help this guy,” she waved a hand toward Logan, “regain his memories.”

                “So he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t remember anything before fifteen years ago.”

                “I don’t know about exact dates,” said Regina, “but, yeah.  His mind has most _definitely_ been tampered with.  It’s holier than Swiss cheese.”

                “Well at least he’s not a _liar_ on top of everything else,” snarked Remus.

                “Watch it, bub,” snarled Logan.

                Regina raised an eyebrow and looked at Storm.  “Am I missing something here?” she asked the white-haired mutant.

                “Remus believes that Logan is his father,” said Ororo.

                Regina blinked and looked back and forth between the two men.  “Well that explains a lot,” she said. “They have the same stubborn attitude and hey, look, they have the same glare.”

                “We do not,” snapped Remus, throwing his arms in the air and glaring angrily at his friend.

                Regina rolled her eyes at him.  “Remus, I’ve known you since you were eleven,” she said.  “You two are _glaringly_ similar.  I’ve only known Logan here for what, ten minutes, and I can already tell you that.”

                Remus grumbled and crossed his arms across his chest like a sullen child.  “Whatever,” he grumbled.  “So can you fix him or what?”

                “What the kid said,” snapped Logan, flexing his hands as if itching to release his claws.  “Can you get me my memories back or what, Doc?”

                “First off,” said Regina, turning to face Logan and raising her pointer finger in the air, “I’m not a doctor, I’m a _healer_ ; there’s a big difference.  Second, the brain’s a delicate organ, Logan.  I can’t promise immediate or complete results, but…I’m fairly confident that I can help you get _some_ of your memories back.”

                “Sounds better than nothing, _Doc_ ,” said Logan.  “When can we start?”

                The grin that Regina gave him was positively predatory.  “Right now,” she said.  “Let’s get started then, shall we?”

 

Regina, barking orders, had the lab re-arranged exactly how she wanted in under ten minutes.  “I just need you to hop up on the table here, Logan, and we can get this show on the road,” she said crisply, motioning to the cushioned metal table that had been cleared on all sides by at least three feet.  “Okay, everyone who isn’t Logan needs to clear out now; this is a private operation.  I don’t need any distractions in here while I’m working on healing his brain.  Yes, that means you too, Remus.”  Remus pouted in protest, but Regina simply glared at him and pointed to the door.  Rolling his eyes childishly, the werewolf obeyed, slamming the door shut behind him with more force than was strictly necessary.

“Whatcha gonna do now, Doc?” asked Logan, masking his nervousness with his usual gruff machismo.

“We’re gonna take a trip down memory lane, Logan,” said Regina, grinning a strangely maniacal smile.  “Are you ready?”

Logan smiled grimly.  “Bring it on, Doc,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Regina Jordan-McGonagall is a sort of non-OC OC of mine. Basically, someone has to fill her role, even if she's not mentioned by name, so I just created a character to fill an empty space. She is Angelina Johnson's mother and Lee Jordan's aunt (Angelina and Lee being cousins is part of my head cannon). The first husband referred to here is Angelina's father, Alvin Johnson. At this point in the story, Regina has 5 kids: Paul Black (10), Angelina Johnson (9), Rowena Lupin (5), and the twins Norah and Jude McGonagall (2). Paul's dad is Sirius Black, who Regina was briefly in a relationship with before her marriage, and Ro's dad is Remus Lupin, who she had a brief fling with after her divorce, but before she met Pietro.
> 
> Please drop a comment to keep the plot dragon-muses well fed. (No flames please.)


	7. Restituere Memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan takes a trip down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Finally, a new chapter!
> 
> Disclaimer: This chapter has direct quotes from a scene in X-Men Origins: Wolverine.

** Chapter 7: Restituere Memoria **

****

                **_November 23, 1994_ :  **“How does this work again?” asked Logan, eyeing Regina’s raised wand with wary eyes.

                “You get to lay back and relax, I wave my wand, say a few words in Latin, and presto, we’ve got a pathway into your brain,” explained Regina, trying to simplify the process so that Logan was sure to understand.

                “I still say it sounds kinda fishy,” grumbled Logan, lying back on the padded metal table.

                Regina rolled her eyes.  “Look, grumbling I understand,” she said, “but in all seriousness, I’m not going to go on with the procedure without your consent.  So, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

                “Let’s get this party started, Doc.”

                Regina smiled grimly and tapped her wand sharply twice against Logan’s temple.  “ _Restituere memoria_ ,” she said clearly, her voice crisp and precise.  Logan instantly felt his awareness receding as he sunk into the depths of his own mind.

 

                Logan found himself standing in a dull, grey, empty space.  “What is this place?” he said aloud, his voice echoing strangely.

                “This is your mind, Logan.”

                Logan whirled around, hands out defensively, and found himself facing Regina.  “What’re _you_ doing here?” he asked, wary.  His claws had slipped out defensively.

                “I’m your guide, Logan,” she said.  “I’m here to help you, so why don’t you put those things away?”

                Logan glanced down and did a double take when he saw that his claws were not metal, but bone.  “What the hell is going on here?” he snarled.

                Regina shrugged, her scarlet robes a bright splash of color against the dreary landscape.  “It’s your mind; you tell me,” she said, tucking her wand into a pocket on the inside of her robes.

                He grunted and took another look around the barren place.  “What am I supposed to do now?” he asked.

                “It’s always best in situations like this to take the first step,” she said solemnly.  “Which way would you like to go, Logan?  This is your journey, not mine.  Like I said before, I’m just along for the ride.”

                Logan surveyed his surroundings with a predator’s eye and took a slight step to the left.  A door, severely out of place in this barren place, appeared out of thin air just inches from his foot.  It was a plain door, made of the sort of wood-plastic combination that could be found in most modern apartment complexes.  It was painted an eggshell white and bore large silver numbers proclaiming it 57A.  Logan glared at the door and turned the knob sharply.  The door opened with an oddly familiar creak and he and Regina stepped inside.

 

**_June 12, 1965_ :  **The room was small, but decorated with love and care.  Knick-knacks and picture frames filled the shelves that lined the walls in a sort of mismatched frenzy that somehow worked.  Pacing across the far side of the room, muttering quietly, Logan saw…himself.  He looked much the same as he did now, with a certain ease of self that he no longer possessed.  “What is this?” Logan questioned aloud.

                “If I had to guess, I’d say this was a memory,” said Regina, stepping up beside him.  “ _Your_ memory.”

                Logan fixed his gaze on the younger him as the man stilled and turned to face the apartment door.  The sound of keys turning in the lock made Logan turn as well.  “Jimmy, I’m home!” a blonde woman called out as she stepped inside.  “I stopped by the market and picked up that beer you like.  I was thinking we could call out for Chinese tonight, does that sound good?”

                Logan shivered as the woman stepped through him like he was a ghost.  “That sounds perfect, Lex,” said Jimmy, smiling brightly and stepping forward to kiss the petite woman on the cheek.  “How was your day?”

                “Same old same,” said Lex, handing Jimmy the pack of beer before throwing herself on the couch with a sigh.  “One of the other reporters was giving me crap again about how female reporters are worse than useless.”  She gave a frustrated sigh.  “Some days I just wanna punch them all in their smug faces.”

                Jimmy walked around so that he stood behind Alex and began to rub her shoulders.  “I know babe,” he said.  “You know I’ll be right there with you when you decide to bust some heads down at the paper.”

                “I know,” she said, tilting her head back for a kiss.  “That’s what I love about you.  You’re always there for me, no matter what.”

                “Nowhere else I’d rather be, Lex,” he said.  “In fact, I’ve been thinking of makin’ our arrangement permanent.  Whaddya say, Alex; wanna be my Mrs. Howlett?”  He pulled a small black box from his jeans pocket and offered it to her.  Lex gasped and raised her hands to her mouth.  Her crystal blue eyes stared at Jimmy in wonder. He fidgeted nervously as the seconds ticked by in silence.  “Well, whaddya say, Lex?  I kinda need a yes or no here.”

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you, you idiot,” she said, affection ringing clear in her voice.  “Did you really think I’d say no?”  She held out her left hand and he slipped the diamond ring on her thin finger.

“Well, your pause had me wonderin’ there, darlin’,” he drawled with a smile.

Lex rolled her eyes and flung herself across the back of the couch into his arms.  “Never change, Jimmy Howlett,” she said, burying her head in his strong shoulder.

“Anythin’ for you, Lex Lupin,” he promised.

 

**_Present Day_ :  **The memory slowly faded out and Logan found himself once again standing in the dreary dreamscape of his subconscious mind with only Regina the Healer for company.  “Was that for real?” he asked the dark skinned woman, his voice gruff and tight.

“Of course it’s real, Logan,” said Regina, taking a step closer and clenching her hands as if she had to resist touching him.  “It was one of your memories that’s been hidden from your for far too long.  Would you like to see more?”

In lieu of a response, Logan took a step backward and turned to face the door that appeared.  It was a simple, lopsided wooden thing that looked like it belonged to an old-fashioned log cabin.  The surly brunette stepped up to the door without hesitation and pushed it open.

 

**_December 25, 1846_ :  **“Merry Christmas, Jimmy.”  The blonde teenage boy who spoke was large and dangerous looking, but his eyes held nothing but fondness as he handed the slighter brunette boy a small package poorly wrapped with brown paper and twine.

Jimmy took the package reverently and gazed at the older boy in awe.  “This is for me?” he asked.

“Who else would I be givin’ presents to, kid?” the blonde boy said, ruffling Jimmy’s brown curls fondly.  “You’re the only brother I got.”

The young boy grinned brightly at his big brother, his teeth gleaming white in the dim light of the ramshackle cabin.  “Can I open it, Victor?  Please?” he asked.

“Why else would I be givin’ it to you, kid?  It ain’t just fer lookin’ at.”

Jimmy beamed and tore into the package.  Inside was a beautiful silver carving knife.  “Victor…”

“I’mma teach you ta carve, Jimmy,” said Victor, grinning toothily.  “Yer old enough now.”

“Oh Victor, thank you!” cried Jimmy, jumping up to give his brother a hug.  “I can’t wait!”

“Alright, kid, calm down,” said Victor, peeling the younger boy off of himself, embarrassed.  “We’ll start lessons tomorrow.”

 

**_Present Day_ :**  “What the hell was that?” snapped Logan as the young boys faded back into memory.

“Why are you asking me?” said Regina, arching an eyebrow.  “It’s your brain, not mine.”

“Thought you were the expert here, Doc.”

“The human mind is uncharted territory, even for those who claim expertise.”  The glare Logan gave her would have scared most people off.  Regina was not most people; she’d spent the better part of seven years with a girl who could out glare anyone.  “Now cut your manly-posturing and open the next damn door, Logan.”

Logan narrowed his eyes at Regina, but turned to the wood door that had appeared on their left and tugged on the brass knob.  “It’s stuck,” he grunted.

“Put your back into it, tough guy,” taunted Regina with a smirk, arms crossed over her chest.

Logan growled and yanked the knob nearly hard enough to break the door off its hinges.  “Got it,” he grunted, stepping through, paying no heed as to whether Regina was following him or not.

 

**_April 20, 1979_ :**  “Do you know why the moon is so lonely?” asked a beautiful woman with long, silky hair that was so dark it was almost black.  Her pale skin glowed in the bright moonlight that streamed through the cabin window across the woman and the man whose arm she stroked with long, gentle fingers.

“Why?” asked the man, rolling over to face her.  Logan realized instantly that it was him.

“Because she used to have a lover,” she said, smiling mysteriously at him.

“You tell this to the kids?” asked past Logan, giving her a warm smile back.

“No,” she said.  Logan laughed playfully.  “His name was Kuekuatsu and they lived in the spirit world together,” she continued, smiling gently at his laughter.

“Oh, this is a true story,” teased past Logan.

“Mm-hm,” she said, laying her head against his chest with her ear against his heart.  “And every night they would wander the skies together; but one of the other spirits was jealous.  Trickster wanted the Moon for himself, so he told Kuekuatsu that the Moon had asked for flowers; he told him to come to our world and pick her some wild roses.  But Kuekuatsu didn’t know that once you leave the spirit world, you can never go back.  And every night he looks up in the sky and sees the Moon and howls her name, but…he can never touch her again.”

“Wow,” said past Logan, his face serious.  “Koo-koo-ka-choo got screwed.”

The woman gently smacked him on the chest.  “Kuekuatsu,” she said reproachingly.  “It means the wolverine.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop makin’ fun of your stories, Kayla,” past Logan said.

“Thank you,” said Kayla primly.  “Now I think it’s _your_ turn to tell _me_ a story, Logan.”

“Me?” said past Logan.  “I don’t tell tales half as good as you do darlin.’”

“I don’t care about that, Logan.  Just tell me a story that _means_ something to you.”

Past Logan seemed lost in thought for a moment before he began to speak.  “Once there was a little boy,” he said, eyes gazing off into the distance.  “He was an only child, but he was never lonely.  He grew up out in the county with his mother and father who both loved him dearly; there wasn’t anything that they wouldn’t do for their precious son.

“But everything changed when the child was attacked.  One night when the moon was full, a vicious werewolf named Fenrir Greyback planted himself close to the house of the small family.  He had vowed revenge against the mother for an article she had written that had led to his arrest.  He’d managed to escape in transit to the prison where he was to be executed and he’d spent days simply watching the small family, looking for the best way to hurt the woman who’d ruined his life.  He saw that chance in her four-year-old son.  Once the full moon rose in the sky, the man transformed into a vicious beast and lured the small boy out of the house where he attacked; not to kill, but to turn the boy into a creature like himself.

“From that day on, the boy’s life was forever changed.  To protect him from prejudice and fear, his parents moved even farther from civilization and there raised their boy to be a loving, kind, and gentle person, despite what had been done to him.  When the boy turned eleven, he was invited to attend his mother’s alma mater, much to his joy.  Things continued to improve for the family, until that Christmas.  Father and son went out to the nearest village on Christmas Eve when they were attacked.  In order to protect his precious son, the father stepped in front of him to save his life; he never saw his boy again.”

“Do you miss your son, Logan?” asked Kayla, catching on quickly to the story.

“More than anything in the world.”

 

**_Present Day_ :  **Logan opened his mouth to speak, but Regina beat him to the punch.  “I can tell you with absolute certainty that that story you told there was Remus’ story.  Congratulations, Logan; you’re a dad.”

Logan growled and clenched his hands into fists, feeling his bone claws beginning to poke through the skin of his knuckles.  He knew Regina was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.  “Let’s just get on with this, Doc,” he snapped.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; this is _your_ brain, Logan.  _You’re_ the one in charge here, not me.”

Logan grumbled, but stepped slightly to the right anyway.  A sterile, white door (the kind you might find in a hospital) appeared and he turned the metal handle.  Nothing happened.  “It’s locked,” he said.

“Try again,” said Regina, stepping closer.

Logan tugged and jiggled the handle.  “Still locked,” he said.

“Let me try something,” said Regina, gently pushing Logan out of the way.  She pulled her wand from the inner pocket of her Healer’s robe and pointed it at the door handle.  “ _Alohomora_ ,” she said.  Again, nothing happened.  “That’s all I’ve got,” she said, shrugging.  “You know how to pick locks?”

“I can give it a try,” said Logan, unsheathing a single claw on his right hand and studying the lock intently.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you…which I am.”

Logan and Regina whirled around to find themselves face to face with a slightly less scruffy version of Logan.  Logan narrowed his eyes at his doppelganger.  “Who are you?” he snarled, fists held ready to release his claws should the need arise.

“I thought that was obvious,” the doppelganger said, stepping closer.  “I’m you, Logan—a part of you, at least.  You can call me Jimmy.”

“Why are you here?” asked Logan, still wary.

“I’m a guardian,” said Jimmy.  “I protect your most precious memory and make sure that it’s never destroyed.”

“Is that why the door’s locked?” asked Regina curiously.

“Sharp thinkin’ there, Doc,” said Jimmy, winking cheekily.  “Only the best protections for our most precious memory.”

“So how do I get in?” asked Logan.

“Just say please,” said Jimmy, a mischievous smile on his face.

Logan narrowed his eyes.  “Please,” he grit out.

Jimmy laughed, his head thrown back and his stubbled throat exposed.  From the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled a small, silver key that matched the door handle.  He inserted the key and turned it.  “It’s all yours, Logan,” he said, bowing slightly and sweeping his arm out in a dramatic gesture.  Logan glared at his doppelganger as he shoved past him and pushed down on the handle.

 

**_March 10, 1966_ :**  “Isn’t he just perfect, Jimmy?”

Logan watched his past self smile down at the small bundle cradled tenderly in the arms of a familiar blonde woman.  “The most perfect baby ever,” said Jimmy, running his large thumb tenderly across the infant’s temple.  “You did a great job, Alex.”

“Give yourself some credit, Jimmy,” said Alex, smiling up at him.  “ _We_ did a great job.”

Jimmy’s smile brightened.  “Yeah, we really did.  So, any ideas on what we’re gonna name the kid?”

“Well, there’s an old Lupin family tradition I’d like to follow,” said Alex slowly.  “My parents skipped it because they only had me and my sister, but…I was thinking Remus.”

“Remus,” said Jimmy, testing out the name.  “It’s strange, but I think I like it.  How about John for a middle name?  I’ve always liked the name.”

“Remus John Howlett,” said Alex.  “I like it.”

“Remus John _Lupin_ ,” said Logan.  “I want the kid to have your name, Alex.  He’s gonna grow up in the Wizarding World; I want him to have a name that’s respected there.”

“Are you sure?” asked Alex.  “I thought we were gonna use your last name.”

“We talked about it, yeah, but I think Lupin’s a better choice.  ‘Sides, I think Remus John Lupin sounds better than Remus John Howlett anyway.”

“Okay, Lupin it is then,” said Alex.  “Would you like to hold our son, Jimmy?”

Jimmy developed a very deer-in-the-headlights look as Alex gently held up little Remus for him to take.  “M-me?” he stuttered.  “You want _me_ to hold him?”

Alex rolled her blue eyes.  “Yes, Jimmy,” she said.  “You are his father after all, and I have _no_ plans to do this whole parenting thing all by my lonesome.  Just take your son, James.”

With trembling hands, Jimmy took Remus from his blonde partner in the hospital bed.  He cradled the infant with great care, his care-worn hands dwarfing the tiny child.  “He’s so small,” he said, his voice filled with awe.

Alex chuckled and smiled tiredly.  “Babies generally are, Jimmy.”

James watched his younger self carefully, amazed by the wonder and joy in his eyes as he stared down at the precious bundle in his arms.  “That’s really me,” said Logan, truth dawning across his face.  “The kid was telling the truth after all.”

“Remus is funny like that,” said Regina.  “He tends to do that most of the time nowadays…at least for the important things.”  The pair watched as the small family slowly faded back to the blank canvas of Logan’s mind. 

 

**_Present Day_ :  **“Well, I think that’s enough for today,” said the healer brusquely.  “Are you ready to re-join the real world, Logan?”

“Yeah,” replied the man gruffly, eyes still fixed on the spot where only moments before he had watched himself hold his tiny son so carefully.  “Let’s get out of here, Doc.”

Regina drew her wand and once again tapped Logan’s temple.  “ _Exsuscitare._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exsuscitare is Latin for awaken (according to my Latin to English dictionary).
> 
> Take a second and leave me a comment (but no flames, please).


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